Meet Lucas Ossendrijver

Lucas Ossendrijver, the 37-year-old Dutch-born Lanvin men’s wear designer, has an international resume to rival most diplomats. After graduating from the Fashion Institute Arnhem (ex alumni include Ossendrijver’s compatriots Viktor & Rolf), he skipped from Kenzo, to the German-Greek Kostas Murkudis, and then to Dior Homme in the Hedi Slimane years, before being charged in 2006 with translating Alber Elbaz’s success at Lanvin to the men’s market. He hasn’t missed a step, as yesterday’s Lanvin’s Fall 2008 show, one of the week’s hottest tickets, proved once again.

Explain your mandate at Lanvin in five words or less.
Ooof. Uhhhh. I don’t know, to get the men’s wear to the level of the women’s.

How are they related?
We use different manufacturers and a different industrial system, but we treat fabric and construction in a similar way — a lot of the clothes we do are washed and have a certain lived-in quality. It’s always a bit dressed up but not too clean or new, and there’s a sense of fragility. I develop our colors separately from what Alber does for the women’s, but when we lay them side to side, we often realize they’re almost the same.

How is working with Alber Elbaz, Lanvin’s creative director?
We’re like brothers, or father and son. We’re very close. He’s generous and he gives me a lot of space, which is rare in fashion. I know he’s always there.

Whither the suit? Only bankers, defendants and politicians actually need to wear them, so how do you make them interesting?
We don’t actually sell suits, we sell jackets and pants as separates. They’re never the same fabric, color or texture. Head to toe, one suit… I think it’s so boring.

Muses are not that important for men’s wear. Why?
I don’t have one specific customer in mind when I design.

Women’s wear designers say the same thing! They always say, she’s old, she’s young, she’s this, she’s that, but still we know there are muses. Why not in men’s wear?
I don’t know, I just don’t like our customer to be pinned down on one person or character. I can relate to different people.

You grew up near Amsterdam and have been in Paris for ten years. Compare the two cities.
They’re absolute opposites. In my work, I’m defining what is French and elegant and luxury, but I’m not French, so to me that bourgeois, old money thing is a little bit imaginary. Meanwhile, Amsterdam is very relaxed, a completely different way of living. Luxury is not very important there, and luxury brands don’t really sell that well.

You’re a bike man. What’s the difference between biking here and in Amsterdam?
Cars and scooters in Paris are everywhere, and you really have to pay attention. In the Netherlands, even if a cyclist causes an accident with a car, it’s always the motorist’s fault, because the cyclist is much more vulnerable.

What do you love about Paris?
I’m always a stranger here, an outsider, but I like the feeling. Things don’t have to touch you. Social life in Paris is so hard to get into, too. But once you’re in with the French, you’re in. They’re loyal.

What’s your favorite neighborhood haunt?Le Petrelle, an old place near where I live in the 10th arrondissement, has lots of ambience and character. The Pop-In on rue Amelot in the 11th is a good bar, and on rue Faubourg St Denis, Chez Jeanette. Sometimes I miss the brown cafes in Amsterdam. There aren’t many good bars in Paris.

What’s your favorite menswear shop?
Apart from Lanvin?

Duh.Old England, by the Grand Hotel. But I’m sad they don’t sell Purdy anymore, the traditional English made-to-measure guns brand.

Wait, are you a gun guy?
Not at all. I just like the tradition. I love English handmade brands like Church’s and Purdy. Also, I always go to Barneys in New York. It’s extremely client-friendly, which I miss in Paris.

Um, yeah. What’s the best gift you were ever given?
A Japanese journalist gave me some black suede Charvet slippers. I wear them in hotels when I travel, though I’m sort of embarrassed by them. I’d never buy them for myself but they’re wonderful.